


He Won't Write You Letters Full of Excuses

by stormboxx



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Dancing, Dystopia, Eye Sex, Fights, Fix-It, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, Harry Hart Lives, Heartache, Home, Implied Slash, Injury Recovery, London, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Music, Panic Attacks, Pining, Rating: M, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormboxx/pseuds/stormboxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 24 hours at Harry's feels like the start of something wonderful. Harry has just offered to teach Eggsy how to make a proper martini, and after the fourth one, he offers to teach him a proper slow dance as well.</p>
<p>The following day Harry Hart dies, as do the life in Eggsy's eyes. As Merlin takes on the role as a temporary Arthur, Eggsy becomes the temporary Tristan, and the world is cast into a dark era where Kingsman and their secret service is needed more than ever. They need to work hard, they need to work fast.<br/>And Eggsy Unwin?</p>
<p>He needs Harry Hart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a Crowded House song: "Not the girl you think you are", which is also featured in some snippets in this story. Another song briefly mentioned is "Four seasons in one day" by the same band. I do wish to clarify that I am in no way trying to steal their work, only that it fits well with the story I wanted to write, and therefore used some snippets in this story.
> 
> You feedback is very welcome, and I hope you enjoy reading!

 

A brilliant smile spreads across the young man's face. 

“Yes, Harry!” Eggsy nods eagerly and gets up from the chair. 

Trying to prove his genuine will to learn how to be a true gentleman, he stands by the door and waits for Harry to walk out of his office. He leads the way down to the kitchen, and opens his drink cabinet. He collects the different equipment, bottles, and glasses they will be needing, and places them elegantly on the kitchen top. 

Eggsy looks around the kitchen, and wonders how often Harry has dinner guests. He has got a big dining table with many accompanying chairs, but somehow Eggsy can't picture Harry hosting any awkward family Christmas dinners nor any New Year's parties. He is about to ask just as he sees Harry donning a grey and white apron, fastening it behind his back in a swift movement. He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls them up slightly to rest just below his elbows. Eggsy would be lying if he told you his mouth didn't go a bit dry seeing that. 

“First, ice.” 

Harry takes out a tray of ice cubes from the freezer, cracks the tray, and fills the two glasses up. 

“Hey um, I don't fancy me drinks swimmin' in water, mate. You sure it should be that many?” 

Harry tries to hide the small smirk, but it's not lost on Eggsy. 

“You start by chilling the glass.” 

“Oh, right yeah.” 

“The gin should always be cold, so never accept a lazy barman, Eggsy. If the gin, or vodka for that matter, does not come straight from the freezer, you're better off with something already supposed to be at room temperature.” 

Eggsy is nodding with interest, now taken a seat across from Harry. 

“You're making it with vodka? Which brand vodka should you go for normally, Absolute or Finlandia or somethin', yeah?” 

Harry stills and closes his eyes for a fraction of a second. 

“Neither,” he says with slight distaste colouring his voice. 

“A safe choice would always be _Grey Goose_ or _Belvedere_. They blend perfectly and leave no aftertaste. If a bar does not stock at least the original clear _Grey Goose_ , I suggest leaving the establishment and go elsewhere.” 

Harry unscrews the bottle of gin and looks quickly at Eggsy, before producing a steel jigger from one of the kitchen drawers. He flips it quickly from between his little- and ring finger to hold between his thumb and index finger. And _winks_ at Eggsy. 

“Hah!” 

It feels like someone is positively standing on his chest, and he only manages a garbled laugh and an impressed nod back to his mentor. 

“Now, traditionally many will favour vermouth over gin, but I personally promote the use of a good gin,” Harry says, measures the gin and some vodka in the jigger, and then pours it into the cocktail shaker. 

His movements are as impeccable and precise as the man himself, and Eggsy can't help but look at said man in front of him in complete awe. He probably looks like a complete imbecile, but he can't find it in himself to care. Harry Hart is right there in a snazzy apron, winking and wielding bar-tending equipment like an absolute professional. As far as Eggsy's concerned it might as well be Christmas. 

“The taste of gin is a tad more,” Harry takes a few seconds to contemplate the right adjective as he stirs the drink with a bar spoon. 

“Mature,” he decides on, and sticks the spoon into his mouth, sucking at it lightly, then nods to himself. 

It looks absolutely sinful, and Eggsy loses his ability to understand the english language for the next couple of seconds. 

“..and then you turn and wave a toast in the general direction of Italy,” Harry finishes his demonstration, and Eggsy has no clue of what was previously said. 

“And there you are,” Harry says and slides a glass across the kitchen top. 

“Cheers, mate!” Eggsy smiles and lifts the glass in a tiny toast. 

They nod to each other and takes a sip of their respective drinks. 

“Harry, this is well good, bruv.” 

Eggsy throws the rest of the drink down and Harry can't help but shake his head in amusement. 

“You have to teach me this, mate!” 

“That,” Harry says and smiles as he fishes up another identical apron from a drawer. 

“..is my intention, Eggsy. Come around to this side, if you would.” 

They stand there working together as Eggsy attempts to imitate Harry's instructions. Aside from the occasional correction here and there, Eggsy is doing quite well. 

After an hour and a half they relocate to the sitting room, their fourth martinis in hand and a more casual air about their conversation. They sit down in Harry's blood red sofa, a few inches closer to one another than they normally would, but Eggsy decides not to dwell too much on the fact. A warm and slightly fuzzy feeling has wrapped itself around him, and he lets himself slouch back down against the back of the sofa. 

“So..did I pass?” Eggsy asks cocking his head slightly, giving Harry his best grin. 

Harry sighs contently as he bows his head with a smile. 

“With flying colours, Eggsy,” Harry says and gives his shoulder a squeeze, letting his hand slide a few inches before slapping Eggsy's upper arm lightly, then turning to take another sip of his drink. 

A comfortable silence settles over them, and they sit there for a few minutes before Eggsy clears his throat turning towards Harry with a more serious face. He tries to will down his pulse racing under his skin, suddenly nervous and self-conscious. 

“Hey, listen Harry, mate. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate everythin' you've done for me, and taught me. These last couple months've really been sorta life-changin' for me, and uh, it might sound daft comin' from me an' all, but thank you.” 

Eggsy swallows. Harry lets his lips quirk up in a small smile seeing Eggsy so nervous. 

“It has been my pleasure, Eggsy. No need to thank me.” 

”No, I do. I will do me best for the final test tomorrow, I want to make you proud, and not have you feelin' you've been wasting all this time on me for nuffin', yeah? What you've done, it means a lot to me.” 

He squares his jaw and looks straight at Harry. 

“You mean a lot to me.” 

He hears his own heartbeat pumping furiously and only hopes that it goes unnoticed. 

For a second Eggsy is afraid that he has said something wrong. Aside from his eyes searching Eggsy's in an almost questioning matter, Harry's face is completely blank. Normal old cool and collected expression. Harry clears his throat and looks right back at Eggsy, who looks like he is about to flee or faint. 

“You mean a lot to me, too, Eggsy,” he says and smiles, and he feels the strange sensation of it reaching his eyes. 

He can see some of the tenseness melt away from Eggsy's posture, and the younger man bites his lip slightly with a nod. 

“Yeah, good. Good. That's..yeh.” 

Eggsy downs the rest of his martini. He sits there looking around the sitting room, anywhere except Harry, his leg jittering rapidly before he suddenly claps his hands together. 

“Right, uh, let's put on some music or somethin', yeah?” 

Harry couldn't agree more. The air had changed somewhat, to something... he couldn't put his finger on. Some music to fill the sudden slightly awkward silence would be more than welcome. 

“Be my guest. The stereo is over there,” Harry says pointing his martini to underneath one of the windows. 

Eggsy turns on the radio and flicks through many different channels, trying to find something which wouldn't be too terrible for Harry, nor for himself. It's a difficult task. 

“I don't think this... Do you have any records you like?” 

“Wait,” Harry perks up suddenly. 

“Could you please go back one channel, Eggsy?” 

Eggsy does, and the voice of a man and an acoustic guitar flows through the speakers and fills the room.

 

_You can take me where you will_  
_Up the creek and through the mill_  
_Like all the things you can't explain_  
_Four seasons in one day_

 

“This?” Eggsy asks and is surprised turning back to see Harry swaying his head slightly to the melancholy melody. 

“Yes. I quite fancy this group.” 

That was something Eggsy would never guess. 

Half-mocking Harry's comment to him from some months ago, he raises an eyebrow and says in his best posh voice: 

“Well, you're full of surprises.” 

Eggsy goes back to sit on the sofa as the song continues, and plops down beside Harry so close that their knees knock into each other. 

The songs fades out and the voice of a calm and pleasant-sounding woman tells them that what they just heard was _Crowded House_ with the song _Four Seasons in One Day_.

 

“. _..and continuing our Crowded House-special tonight, here is maybe one of the lesser well known songs, but in my opinion, one of their best. For all new listeners tuning in now in the late of night, this is our radio 6 music Crowded House-special. Here is a personal favourite of mine, “Not the Girl You Think You Are”_.” 

Harry lets his head fall back against the sofa with a sigh. He then gets up and turns to Eggsy, offering him a hand. Eggsy looks between the hand and Harry with confusion and nervous hope in his eyes. 

“During the test today you were all drugged before you were able to try to seduce your mark. In my experience, nothing works better than a classic, slow dance. Last lesson for today?”

There is something similar to a nervous edge to Harry's voice, but Eggsy writes it off on the martinis. He takes the hand offered to him and lets himself be dragged up, lets Harry's hand rest on his lower back as they start swaying slowly to the melody. The words float out from the speakers again and grips his attention.

 

_You're not the girl you think you are_  
_they're not his shoes under your bed_  
_he'll take you places in his car_  
_that you won't forget (no)_

 

Eggsy's hand fits nicely in Harry's slightly bigger one, and Harry rubs slow circles on the back of Eggsy's hand with his thumb, absentmindedly, as they move with the beat of the song.

 

_And all the people that you know_  
_will turn their heads as you go by_  
_but you'll be hard to recognize_  
_with the top down and the wind blowing, blowing_

 

When Eggsy dares to take a look up at Harry, he nearly jolts with surprise to see the older man looking at him quite affectionately. He doesn't want to stare, but he doesn't dare to look away either. When the chorus comes Eggsy feels like all the air disappears from his lungs, as Harry tilts his head and mouths the words without looking away.

 

_He won't deceive you or tell you the truth_  
_woman, he'll be no trouble_  
_he won't write you letters_  
_full of excuses_  
_come on, believe you have one in a million_

 

The song continues, as do they, swaying with its tempo, Harry leading them, inching them a bit closer together. Eggsy can feel the older man's breath on his face, and he is sure Harry can feel his heart racing in is chest. 

“Like this song, do ya?”, Eggsy tries for sarcastic and playful, but it lands on awkward and nervous. 

He tries to make up for it with a chuckle. It doesn't make it any less awkward. 

“I do, yes,” Harry murmurs, the baritone of his voice vibrating in his chest pressed close to Eggsy's. 

Harry spins Eggsy around, effortlessly, catches him again, even closer now. 

“One of my favourites.” 

“It's a nice song,” Eggsy breathes, barely over a whisper. 

Harry smiles back at him and pushes Eggsy's head slowly to rest against his chest and collarbone. They continue like this and Eggsy feels certain he has never felt calmer, happier, or more loved than he feels now. 

“Eggsy,” Harry whispers just above his head. 

“Yes, Harry?” 

“About what you said,” 

Another spin, “earlier,” Harry says and leans his cheek against Eggsy's cap clad head. 

“I want to have you know, not a second spent with you is a wasted moment for me.” 

Harry knows how it sounds. He knows they are soon touching upon possibly difficult terrain if they let it continue. He knows how it sounds. And the only thing he can think is ' _So what?_ ' 

He hears Eggsy sigh, and he feels the young man almost melt into him. Eggsy drapes his arms around Harry's waist, and Harry can't do anything else than to let his hands rest on the younger man's shoulders. The song is nearing its end. Neither of them wants to acknowledge it. 

When the song finally fades out and the voice of the woman comes back, Harry taps at Eggsy's shoulders. Eggsy is not letting him go. 

“Eggsy. It's late.” 

No response. 

With caution and a deep sigh, Harry presses his lips to the side of Eggsy's head, inwardly cursing his weak resolve. 

“Big day tomorrow, remember?” 

Eventually Eggsy nods and untangles himself from Harry's body. Suddenly self-conscious he rubs the back of his neck, laughing, and a lovely pink colours his cheeks. Harry feels as though something has crept up within him and squeezes around his heart. He shakes mentally himself out of it, and goes to turn off the stereo. 

“Let's get you sorted for bed.” 

Eggsy simply nods and follows Harry back upstairs, trying to show no disappointment when he's led to a guest room. The bed is already neatly made, and a maroon coloured robe identical to Harry's rests atop of it. 

“Everything you could need before tomorrow should be here. But if not, don't hesitate to ask me if there is anything else you need. I'm just down the hall over there.” 

Harry turns and points to a door opposite of them, and when he turns back he locks eyes with Eggsy, who's leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. He looks at Harry up from under his lashes, fixes the older man with an almost challenging gaze. 

“Is there anythin' else in particular I should be needin',” Eggsy all but whispers, “before tomorrow?” 

Harry feels something almost like an electrical jolt to his lower abdomen. He swallows, but keeps his eyes on Eggsy. 

“I-,” he clears his throat quickly, “I wouldn't want to speculate.” 

There is definitely a challenge in Eggsy's voice now. 

“Are you sure?” 

Harry stares.  _No_ , he finds that he wants to answer. _No_ , _I'm not sure_.

But they had been drinking rather a lot, and Harry was afraid the alcohol was clouding Eggsy's better judgement in the situation. He wouldn't take advantage of that. He cared too much for the younger man to do that. 

“Yes, Eggsy. Good night.” 

Harry hated to see the playful light in Eggsy's eyes disappear in a split second, replaced by sudden embarrassment. 

“ 'course, yeah..! You too, Harry.” 

Harry nods and turns to leave for his bed room. 

“And thanks for a..nice evenin' and all.” 

Harry smiles solemnly to himself without turning back to Eggsy. 

“Likewise, Eggsy. Sleep well.” 

Harry shuts his bed room door behind him and leans against it. The cool of the wooden door feels good against his almost searing skin. He feels warm all over, and doesn't take his time folding his clothes as he normally would. He slips out of his clothes until he's down to his black briefs. He's embarrassed to see he is completely hard, but he tries his best to ignore it and slips into bed. After a while he loses track of how long he's been lying there, stubbornly trying to will his erection away. Turning for the umpteenth time he hears low music coming from the hallway. He strains his ears for a few seconds before giving up. He gets out of bed and opens his door no more than two inches. Harry sees faint blue light from his guest room. Eggsy is probably listening to music on his phone. When he listens again he clearly hears the song Eggsy's listening to. The same one they had danced to, just short of an hour earlier. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping Harry turns to go to bed again when he stops dead mid-stride. 

Mixed in with the music he hears a moan coming from his guest room. Then another. Then another. 

Harry flushes and feels like it's suddenly 30 degrees warmer in his bed room. He goes to bed again, closes his eyes resolutely and pulls his covers right up to his chin. He didn't close his door, and now it is impossible to escape the unholy sounds coming from Eggsy's room. 

After failing at even his most effective meditation technique, Harry finally gives in. He slips his briefs down around his thighs and he feels aroused, embarrassed, and completely childish when he grips himself and starts moving his hand in slow, languid strokes. He has given in now and can't no longer bother with being reasonable and morally conscious. He thinks about Eggsy inching closer to him on the sofa, about the arms which wrapped around him during their dance. He thinks about the curious face of the young man outside the police station. He thinks about those hideous trousers that seem to hug Eggsy's arse just perfectly, and he thinks about how many times he has nearly been caught looking at it. 

A low groan escapes his mouth before he can stop it, and he is pumping himself now, with one hand gripping tightly around his cock, and the other clutching at the sheets of his bed so hard his knuckles turns white. He had been tempted to do this many times, but had always managed to act reasonable and professional about it. Now, with the object of his affection only some few meters down the hall, he finds himself unable to control his thoughts. 

A low and muffled, almost guttural groan comes from the guest room, and that is all it takes for Harry to be sent flying over the edge. He shudders as he comes in hard, long spurts over his own stomach, not caring about how he is soiling his exclusive bed linen. It is the most powerful orgasm he has had in a while and he rides it out arching slightly, before he falls back spent and limp heaving for his breath. 

The hallway is completely silent again, and for a few seconds Harry feels utterly horrified if Eggsy had in any way heard him. The panic blows over quickly when he hears light snoring coming from the room opposite of his. Sleep suddenly tugging at the corners of his eyes, stronger than normal, he falls asleep with a slight smile on his lips.

 

Tomorrow would be a good day.

 

 


	2. Arthur

The next day turned out so far from good as something could possibly get. 

After V-day Merlin had resumed the temporary position of Arthur, and he had given Eggsy the title of Tristan, as Harry wasn't the only knight they had lost that day. Eggsy had downright refused to accept his mentor’s old title when Merlin offered it up for him to take. He had become angry with Merlin and told him no one should touch the title before they had localised Harry’s body and buried him properly. They were overworked and didn’t have the time for discussions, so when Eggsy stood his ground and refused to take over as Galahad, Merlin could do nothing else but agree to Eggsy’s terms. Tristan was the only agent they had been able to locate in the two first weeks after V-day.   
The old Tristan had been found decapitated at an airport in Doha, amongst the bodies of 70 slaughtered men, women and children. He was the youngest of the Kingsman agents save for Roxy; when V-day happened he had been 29 years of age and recently become a father to his first child. Kingsman had lost a total of five agents that day: Galahad, Tristan, Dagonet, Gawain, and Bors, and all five had left this earth as executioners. 

Eggsy accepted Tristan’s title, but Merlin had been very clear on the fact that Eggsy's role would be a temporary one; a bitter reminder that he had not earned his title by completing the last trial the way Roxy had. But given the circumstances and the insane amount of work they were facing, they had no other choice. What would later become of him when a new Arthur was chosen was yet to be determined. 

Eggsy would have moments when he was a bit overwhelmed that this was actually his new life. Sometimes thinking back on the day he first stepped foot in the tailor shop, and how he never knew his life would take such a sharp, unexpected turn only minutes later. It seemed such an unexplainably long time ago. Meeting the marvellous and mighty Harry Hart, the training, him and Roxy as the final two. The 24 hours with Harry, and the dance in his living room. The tension they both had felt, but neither dared to explore further. Eggsy would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about that night over a hundred times since, but these days he didn't have the energy nor the mental strength to let himself linger on it, not even for a second. It hurt too much. To Eggsy, it had been like a bright flicker of light, and felt like the possible start of something incredible. 

Instead, it turned out to be one of the last happy moments of his life for a very long time to come. Like how that day had been beyond what he could ever have hoped for, the next day had been nothing short of a hellish nightmare. Staring down into JB's innocently bright eyes from behind a gun, the fight in Harry's home which had brought something vicious out in both of them, and then soon after... Kentucky. Killing Arthur. V-day. And the terribly long weeks that followed with uncertainty, clean up, heartache, long days and even longer nights. 

They threw themselves into the work like each day had 36 hours, and it took its toll on all of them. Not only was their organization in shambles; the rest of the world was on the verge of collapse. The first weeks following the genocide resembled something taken out of a dystopian science fiction novel. People behaved as if all laws, reason, and common sense had left them, resulting in more violence and murder, grand scale looting, kidnappings, state coups, amongst other things, and the list seemed to go on into infinity. Valentine had said the world was sick and he would be the one to heal it, but had he really foreseen the horrendous consequences of his so-called remedy? The world might have been in a terrible state before his plan was set in motion, but the result of his medicine had left humankind facing its greatest challenge yet. Fixing it could take a lifetime. The economy had taken a hard blow, millions were suddenly out of work, doomsday cults were spreading globally like wildfire, air traffic and international travel was temporarily limited to politicians, military, and state officials only; import and export goods were rationed, Internet usage limted, and any and all forms of surveillance was significantly increased to ‘ensure your safety’.

 

The world had, quite frankly, gone to shit.

 

Kingsman and its agents were doing all they could to make a difference, but it was nothing more than a drop in a vast, contaminated ocean. The unrest, doubt, and fear hanging over the rest of the world was no less present at Kingsman, and then when Merlin disappeared without a word four months after V-day, they were certain that the end of Kingsman was close at hand. 

They were fortunately mistaken. 

Unpredictable as he ever was, Merlin showed up exactly one week after he left. And as for his explanation? He had said only two things. 

 _I had something important to take care of. Things will change soon._  

That was it. And no matter how ominous as it sounded, they just kept on like before. 

-

 

Eggsy had defused a bomb, taken out the leader of a new London-based doomsday cult, and was now hurrying through the streets leading to the shop on Savile Row, knowing he was late for his debrief with Merlin. If the mission was domestic and turned out successful, the agents no longer always had the luxury of an extract team; get there on your own, get it done, get back on your own. It was a major setback in Eggsy’s opinion, but everything was different now. Beggars can’t be choosers, as they saying goes. He had a black eye, and his suit was torn and battered, but apart from that the mission had been a success.

 His phone buzzed as he started a light jog up Regent Street, resolutely ignoring the surprised looks he earned from those he passed by. The text was from Roxy. 

 _The new Arthur's here. Merlin just informed me your debriefing is postponed._ _-R_  

Eggsy's pulse quickened a bit reading Roxy's message. If the new Arthur was there it could only mean one thing: the discussion of his future in Kingsman. 

 _Has he said anything yet?_ he typed back, his hands shaking slightly as he did so. 

 _Only that we should be prepared for some heavy news. Don't be late, Eggsy._ _-R_

That's it then, Eggsy thought bitterly as he started running. The end of ' _Temporary Tristan_ '. 

-

 

Merlin was waiting for him outside of Arthur's room. His face bore a stern, but solemn look. “Before we go in, lad, I want to tell you that I'm sorry.” He sounded exhausted, and Eggsy saw how the man was pained by his own words. Eggsy tried to sound cheerful, like he didn’t understand what was going on. “Wha' for, Merlin?”, he half-laughed, but knew what to expect. They were cutting him off.

“It had to be this way,” Merlin answered and opened the door for Eggsy to enter. 

Upon entering, Eggsy noticed two very distinct things. 

One: most of their agents were seated at the table. Percival, Lancelot, Geraint, Kay, Bedivere, and now himself. Lamorak, and Gareth would probably be joining them through their glasses, and the seats of Dagonet, Gawain, and Bors were still unoccupied, as they had been for the last seven months. Like Harry's, _Galahad's_ , as well. 

Two: the new Arthur was a _goddess_. 

She didn’t greet him, only nodded for Eggsy to have a seat before she turned to Merlin and spoke in a hushed tone. 

Her hair was strawberry blonde and fell in long waves over her shoulders, and her eyes were a stormy mix of ice blue and grey. Her dark grey two-piece clung to her form just the way it should, and her skin was milky white and powdered with tiny freckles. Her blood red lipstick matched the underside of her Louboutins, and Eggsy easily came to the conclusion that whatever words came out from between those lips, he would have no other choice than to obey. 

She nodded to Merlin and turned towards them with a quick smile that was gone as soon as it appeared. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, glasses please,” she said with a firm tone. Indeed, there were Lamorak and Gareth, coming into view on either side of him. He heard a hushed gasp and noticed Roxy's face fixed on their new Arthur with wide eyes. Only now she noticed how beautiful Arthur was? She was probably running on too little sleep, Eggsy thought to himself and turned his attention back to their new leader. 

“My name is Lydia Murlow,” the woman announced, her voice was light and soothing, but rang of confidence. “A name you should not bother to remember, as I am now taking over the position as Arthur of Kingsman.” 

A short round of applause sounded through the room before Lydia raised her hand in a silencing motion. 

“Thank you. As much as I would like to take this opportunity to get acquainted with each of you, I'm afraid we have more pressing matters at hand. After Richmond Valentine's mass genocide seven months ago, not only the world, but also this organization has been in danger of collapse. The most important missions aside, our first priority wil be to get our branch up on it's legs again, and that means new recruits to fill the positions that regrettably now are vacant.” 

Lydia lifted her chin in Eggsy’s direction and gave him a once over. 

“Gary Unwin?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You look terrible.” 

“My apologies, sir. I have just returned from a mission.” 

“Successful?” 

“Affirmative.” 

“Very well. You are currently assigned the title of Tristan, correct?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I have gone through your file, your mission reports, your weapon scores, and the general success rate on the missions you have completed in the seven month period after your were temporarily taken on as Tristan. I am impressed, Mr. Unwin,” she said, again one of those barely-there smiles. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“However,” she continued and lifted a finger. “I alone can not ignore tradition and simply give you the position, but as we do not have time to go by usual procedures I will present the table with a vote. Through your hard work, your results and your commitment, I see you worthy of the title of Tristan. If the majority of this table are in favour of this solution, the position is yours, Mr. Unwin. I will exclude Merlin and myself from voting.” 

Eggsy nodded. He knew he had Roxy's support, and hopefully Percival, Kay, and Gareth's too. The others he wasn't sure of. 

“All those in favour, please raise a hand.” 

Eggsy managed to keep still in his seat, stomping down on the urge to cast a look around the table. Lydia did it for him, and gave a short smile again before she spoke, “Very well.” Lydia turned more directly towards Eggsy. 

“6 to 2 in favour, Mr. Unwin.” 

She took four long strides before she stood by Eggsy's side, extending a slim hand with beautifully manicured nails. 

“Welcome to Kingsman, Tristan. Officially.” 

Warmth bloomed within Eggsy as he shook her hand. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and his smile was genuine and honest. 

“Alright!” Lydia exclaimed, now a smile visiting her red lips longer than before. She walked up to her end of the table, and Eggsy quietly started to count on his hand which agents were present, discreetly without looking around the table. Had she miscounted? 

“Please, I want you to propose a candidate for the three remaining positions no later than Monday evening at eight. Lancelot and Tristan, you will not do this as by Kingsman regulations, an agent can only propose a candidate after having his or her own title for four years. Merlin will again take care of the training, but this time with the help of Gareth and Lancelot. Understood? Good. Dismissed.” 

Just as Eggsy finished counting for a second time, he saw a blue flicker disappear from the seat to Arthur’s right. Galahad’s chair. He hadn’t noticed anyone there, partly because it was obvious the chair would be empty, and partly because Lamorak sat to his left. The nausea was instant and he couldn’t control his breathing as the other agents disappeared from his view and others left the room. It seemed to be spinning, and he could see Roxy look at him anxiously. He ignored her and instead adressed Lydia, his voice distant to his own ears as he spoke. “Arthur, has Galahad’s body been found? Has he..Where is it? Has he been buried? Why didn’t anyone-,” he was rambling, and Lydia looked at him frowning while his running mouth was cut off by Merlin’s firm grip around his arm. 

“Calm down, boy.” 

Eggsy’s eyes snapped up to Merlin as he tried to shake his arm loose, hurt and confusion clear on his face 

“Merlin, when did you... Why didn’t you tell me? Was that somebody in Harry’s chair? Who was that?” he panted, and turned back to Arthur. “Who was that? Arthur, who was that in Harry’s chair? Who took his postion?” he spoke louder and heard how frantic he sounded, the room spinning more and he felt his knees weaken. 

“Eggsy, didn’t you see-,” Roxy started, but Merlin’s sharp glare silenced her instantly. 

“Lancelot, you’re dismissed,” Lydia said, now a much more stern ring to her voice than earlier. Roxy nodded and shot Eggsy a final worried look before she exited the room. Lydia turned back to Eggsy and spoke calmly. 

“Tristan, Galahad's position is occupied. Nobody has taken his position.” 

Eggsy started heaving, and he was two seconds away from hyperventilating. Merlin took hold of his other arm and held him up so he wouldn’t fall. 

“Then..who,” Eggsy breathed hard, his sight going white at the edges as he felt a weird itching sensation prickle all throughout his body, “..was that?” he finished and could faintly see Lydia look at him like she was confused. 

“That was Harry Hart,” came her soft reply, but it sounded as if she spoke through a cloth, distant and muffled, warbled even, and his vision finally turned completely white at the same time as his knees gave out, and he slumped against Merlin’s chest as his body heaved violently before he threw up. 

-

 

Not too long after, he came back to his senses and became aware that he was lying on the floor with his head in someone’s lap. He stirred and a hand was right there on his shoulder. “Easy, lad,” Merlin’s voice sounded calm and friendly, and as Eggsy looked up he saw the man had taken off his glasses and his sweater, a small smile on his face. Lydia came and sat down beside them and handed Eggsy a glass which he accepted with trembling hands, the cold water very welcome as his throat felt sore and dry as dirt. 

Lydia helped Merlin as they dragged Eggsy to his feet and sat him down in a chair by the table. 

“How do you feel, Gary?” she asked, suddenly sounding so much like his mother when he was sick and she worried, using his birth name. 

“Fuckin’ aces,” he muttered, sounding tired and sad. 

The three of them sat there for almost a full hour, Merlin and Lydia explaining the unexplainable to him. Harry had been shot in the head, miraculously survived and subsequently rushed to a nearby hospital where three doctors had worked on him for 11 hours straight. He had flatlined two times before they managed to stabilise him, his heart trying to overcome the shock to his body after having a hole blown through his skull. Merlin explained that the bullet had been slowed down a fraction when it first hit the lens, and it was news to Eggsy that the lenses of their Kingsman glasses were made from gorilla glass, the same type of glass used for Apple’s iPhone. The lens took some of the impact before it pierced Harry’s head, and it was of the doctors’ opinions that that was what saved his life. The bullet had gone through the underside of his temporal lobe, avoiding the brain stem by a hair’s breadth and exited through the cerebellum. The doctors had told Merlin that Harry had been incredibly lucky, as the chances for that happening are close to zero.

He had been kept in a medically induced coma for a month so his brain could start healing, and all the while his nameless file went through the CIA, the FBI, and eventually the NSA, when they finally had been able to link him to the church slaugther after seeing the church’s footage.

When Merlin had disappeared three months ago, it was because he had been contacted by Lydia, then deputy director of NSA’s division S. She had been in the Tailored Access Operations, TAO, for over 20 years before becoming deputy director in 2012, and it had initially been a shock to Merlin that somebody had managed to link Harry to Kingsman, but with Lydia’s background and experience it wasn’t really that hard to believe. Harry wasn’t the only person Merlin had dragged with him back to England. 

Eggsy had to interrupt. “What, so you just quit your job at the NSA? Up and left, like, you could do that?” he asked Lydia, and the exasperated look and the raised eyebrow he got in return said it all. 

“Of course not,” she said quickly, shooting a smart look in Merlin’s direction before she continued, “First I had to help this gentleman kidnap and hide Mr. Hart. After that he helped me fake my own death, and offered me a new job immediately after. I say it was quite a good deal,” she said and winked at him, and Eggsy couldn’t hold in a laugh. He liked her. The woman was a total badass. It was obvious to him that Merlin thought so too; finally he had found someone of his own caliber, an equal perhaps, and Eggsy was willing to bet good money that the two already had a good eye for one another. Amusing as it was, that didn’t explain their decision to keep the truth from him, and neither why exactly today had been the day to break the news. 

“But Harry, though... Merlin, why didn’t you tell me?” 

Merlin sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, not meeting Eggsy’s eyes as he spoke. “He ought to tell you why himself, lad, but it was Harry’s decision. I promised him not to say anything,” Merlin said and he sounded miserable. “I’m only glad it’s over now, it has not been fun lying to you, or the others for that matter.”

Merlin muttering and looking so distraught was not something Eggsy ever hoped to see again, as it was both terrifying and quite unsettling. Eggsy didn’t like what he was hearing, but he understood. The anger that slowly started to settle deep within him wasn’t aimed towards Merlin. 

“As I first finished what we can call my ‘Arthur training’ last week, I decided it now was a good time to introduce myself, and relieve Merlin of all his extra duties. Coincidentally, the doctors also cleared Harry ready for light duty last week. Nothing too strenous in the beginning, though, he’s still recovering. He will not be going out on missions for a while, I’ll keep him grounded here, see to it that he takes it easy.” 

Merlin and Eggsy shared a look before they both turned their eyes to Lydia. Clearly she hadn’t met Harry Hart yet. 

“So, his recovery has gone well then? That why he still has his old title, because he’ll be back in the field eventually?” 

Lydia nodded, “That’s the idea. There were however some initial worries when he woke up. Remember, a bullet passed through his head. One does not leave such an experience without a couple of aftershocks.” 

“What do you mean?” Eggsy asked, and now Merlin was the one to continue. 

“After he was brought out of coma, he first had trouble remembering. He-“ 

“Trouble remembering? What? Like, amnesia?” 

“I was getting there, Eggsy. As I was saying, when he woke up there were things he couldn’t remember. He recognized me, but not my name. He knew his home adress, but not how to get there unaided. Tiny bits of information about himself, his friends, and Kingsman were gone, but that was only-,” Merlin sighed when Eggsy interrupted him again. “Did he.. I mean, could he remember..” he wasn’t able to finish the question, only licked his lips nervously and sat up straighter when Merlin nodded. 

“Did he remember you? He did. I asked him if he remembered a boy named Eggsy, and he told me that was the young son of Lee Unwin, the one he gave the Kingsman medal to.” 

Eggsy felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs, and Merlin coughed before he continued, “But if you could stop interrupting me you will get the whole picture without blanking out again. The things he didn’t remember came back to him within a couple of days. The doctors say it’s quite normal. As I told you earlier, the bullet brushed his temporal lobe. The temporal lobe, as you should remember from your medical training, is one of the parts of the brain that controls language and memory. This means that there are words he sometimes has trouble remembering, even now. This is something he’s currently working on together with the doctors and an SLP.” 

Eggsy let it all sink in, his nerves calming gradually as Merlin explained everything to him.

The most noticeable change he could expect after meeting Harry again would be his missing eye, and his posture, of all things. Merlin explained that as the bullet had exited through Harry’s Cerebellum, meaning the brain’s centre for posture, balance and coordination of movement, there would be a noticeable change to how he carried himself. If Harry Hart would ever again regain his perfect posture was still up in the air, but Eggsy felt he couldn’t really give a shit about the man’s posture as long as he was still standing, still breathing, and, most importantly, still Galahad. 

They agreed to take the debriefing of Eggsy’s mission first thing next morning, and Eggsy left after Merlin had made him promise not to visit Harry – the man needed his rest. Eggsy said he understood, left after saying good night, and there wasn’t a doubt in Merlin’s mind that the boy had just lied right to his face. He felt a little obliged to tell Harry but found he couldn’t really care. It was time the man found his courage and spoke to the boy himself. 

“That young man,” Lydia said after Eggsy had left, “he sure seems to care about Galahad an awful lot.” 

Merlin agreed, nodding while he picked up his clipboard from the table. “He does.” 

“In love?” she enquired, tone innocent, but Merlin only shrugged as he answered her. 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

He lied.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia Murlow, in my head anyway, is shamelessly based on Gillian Anderson. Just putting it out there..


	3. Westbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy jumps on the Piccadilly line and heavy rain bears down over London. Gloucester Road station is only three minutes from Harry's home, but Eggsy's change is at Earl's Court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short update, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

 

Going up and down the stairs was becoming easier, and Harry had counted that out of the 11 times he had used the stairs that day he only needed to hold the railing 8 times. His hand shook only when he was tired, and that was something he always noticed extra well when he went to make himself a last cup of tea before bed.

The water was boiling and the porcelain clinked and shook as he placed the cup down on the countertop. It aggravated him, but his doctor kept reminding him that anger rarely helped any situation, so he urged himself to ignore the irritation bubbling up inside of him. He did his very best to follow the doctor’s advice, but sometimes it was too much. He wasn’t that old yet, he used to be the very picture of accuracy in everything he did, so why was he unable to simply pour a cup of tea without making the mess of a 4 year old?

He poured the water over, and some of it splashed over the cup’s edge, pooling in the plate and on the countertop, some of it dribbling down the cabinet door. He sighed and closed his eyes, tried counting to ten before slamming his fist down on the counter in annoyance. It was only tea, why was it so difficult? He dried up the water he had spilled, and like the anger that had suddenly washed over him, the sky suddenly seemed to erupt and a torrent of rain poured down over his roof, over London. He calmed down again. Thunderstorms and merciless, heavy rain; he could quite like it, occasionally. He took his tea with him into the living room carefully carrying it with both hands, and sat down in his burgundy Chesterfield chair by the fireplace. He took a sip and sighed tiredly, wondering how Eggsy had reacted to his surprise attendance at Arthur’s table. Was he to be completely honest with himself he was relieved his apparent resurrection only had been digital so far; he didn’t dare say how he would have reacted if Eggsy confronted him there in front of everyone, had he been there in person. He knew, of course, there would be anger and a lot of explaining to do, but as he was still recovering and only cleared for very light duty, most of his work would be done from his home office. He already dreaded the day he would have to walk in to the shop and face Eggsy. Not because he didn’t want to see the boy, he nearly ached to meet him again, to see the boy’s lovely smile. But that was part of the reason he dreaded it; he was afraid there would be no smiles, no laughter, nothing like it used to be before that day he so wished he could delete from his memory. He knew that the longer he put it off, the worse it would be, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to see Eggsy yet, afraid that the warmth in the boy’s eyes was gone. Afraid that he would look at him differently now that everything was, well…different.

-

Eggsy stood on the tube, his leg jittering as he purposely tried to ignore the looks from the fellow passengers. A bit irritated with himself that he didn’t find something to change into at the shop, but that had been the last of his worries as Arthur and Merlin talked him through the main points of Harry’s survival and recovery. His hair and suit were just as disheveled as before, and his body ached for a shower and bed.  
Just passing Knightsbridge there were only two stations left before he had to change to the Hammersmith line on Earl’s Court; last stop before Earl’s was Gloucester, and Gloucester station was only a two minute light jog away from Harry’s home. He had promised Merlin not to go to Harry, and he didn’t mean to either. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to. Why had Harry decided it was okay simply to pop up out of nowhere after nine months, all the while Eggsy believing him to be dead? Could he be any less of a gentleman? Either Harry found some kind of morbid pleasure in torturing Eggsy, or the man had never really respected him to begin with. The more he thought about it the angrier he became, and he decided that Harry could sit and sulk and be a bastard in his stupid little townhouse and wonder why Eggsy didn’t come running now that he knew he was alive. The prick, Eggsy thought to himself as the doors closed and the tube left South Kensington station behind. If Harry thought his little appearance would make Eggsy come bouncing back into his arms like a lovesick puppy he had another thing coming.

-

The rain didn’t seem to let up, and Harry was getting tired, the slight tremor in his hand intensifying a little the longer he stayed up. After the tea and a good think he had decided he would try to make the best of his rehabilitation training the next couple of days and then see Eggsy by the end of the following week. Hiding had never been his style, and by putting off meeting Eggsy only because of his injury he would, in fact, be hiding. He didn’t like it, but it had to be that way. If he let his injury weaken him further or hold him back his knighthood would be out the window in no time, and that he couldn’t accept.

Harry turned out the lights in the living room and kitchen and was halfway up the stairs when he heard rapid steps on wet stone, followed by thundering knocks on his front door.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and went down the stairs again. To think that he could do this his own way had been stupid at best, he thought to himself as he quickly donned the eyepatch he loathed more than anything. Was he ready?

No.

He took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

-

His heart was hammering under his ribcage and he heaved after breath as he stood there in the pouring rain. He knew he was home, he heard him come down the stairs, and sudden panic started seeping into him as he heard the lock turn. He wasn’t ready for this, why had his brain tricked him into coming here? Why couldn’t he just listen to Merlin? Why couldn’t he wait? Deep down he really knew why, and he hated himself for it.

The door opened and finally the air was knocked out of him completely.

He stared. And stared and stared and stared.

The figure standing in the dark room in front of him looked like the ghost of the man he had come to know a year earlier. He seemed thinner, his cheeks slightly more hollow and his jaw seemed sharper, protruding more than before. The man stood hunched over to his left, head tipped in the same direction, and Eggsy could see a black eyepatch covering his left eye. The other eye was wide open, looking back at him almost frightened.

Eggsy didn’t step inside, just stood there in the pouring rain and took in the sight of this new Harry Hart, this wonderful, terrible dead man who was suddenly very much alive and looking back at him like he wanted to run.

“Eggsy..”

His voice sounded so quiet, almost nervous, and Eggsy immediately held a hand up to silence whatever else he was about to say.

“No,” he spoke, voice tainted with anger. “Don’t speak. Don’t say anything,” he whispered and stepped over the threshold, his soaked clothes dripping on the parquet where he stood. The only sounds were the rain outside behind him, the drops dripping off his suit, and his heavy breath coming out in short, rapid huffs. He kept his voice low and to a whisper as he continued, never taking his eyes off Harry’s.

“The last time I was here I watched you die. I sat in there,” he pointed to the kitchen, “and thought about all the things you taught me, all the things you said to me, about our terrible exchange before you went to…” he couldn’t finish. Instead he took another deep breath and stepped closer towards Harry, and to his surprise Harry took a step back.

“You were dead, Harry. I mourned you for months, in silence. Waiting for the call from Merlin about your funeral, a call that never came. So I figured Valentine disposed of you, that I never got to see you again, never got to say goodbye. Never got to say thank you. Never got to say I was sorry.”

Eggsy was breathing heavier and his hands were balled into fists, tremoring by his sides as he took yet another step forward. Tears welled up in his eyes and he squared his jaw; he didn’t want to cry. He’d cried enough tears for this man already.

“And then you..,” he started and couldn’t stop the sob that followed, his voice cracking as the tears betrayed him, “you were here all along?” he whispered and looked at Harry like all energy had gone out of him.

“Eggsy, I-,” Harry started but was cut off when Eggsy gripped him in a tight embrace, sobbing quietly, his breath coming out in warm huffs against Harry’s collarbone. They stood in silence for a moment, Eggsy holding Harry so that he couldn’t put his arms around him. Then the younger man took a step back and wiped a hand over his face, squaring his jaw again and looked him right in the eye, and Harry nearly missed the words that followed, so low and quiet and full of rage.

“ _Fuck_ you.”

The hand came down faster than he could register, stinging pain exploding in his right cheek and he saw Eggsy’s retreating back, the boy running out in the rain before he disappeared down the road.

Harry stood there in the open door, looking out in the rainy night and felt his heart break into a million pieces. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Eggsy, or poor Harry? :'(


	4. I didn't want you to see me like this

 

 

It shattered completely.

 

He’d expected it to be difficult, and that Eggsy would be angry. Even though he was expecting it, he hadn’t been properly prepared for how difficult it was to see Eggsy so disappointed in him.

 

After Eggsy took off, Harry stood there looking out into the rain until he noticed one of his neighbours looking at him from their kitchen window. Embarrassed, he shut his door but found he couldn’t move from where he stood. He rested his forehead against the cool surface of the door, focusing on his breathing. It was difficult. A tender ache pulsated through him, and in his mind, he replayed what had happened a few moments earlier.

 

Eggsy had looked so lost. Then the feeling of the young man almost melting against him, the feeling of appreciation, of warmth and love. An indescribable sense of relief. Then words that cut into him, deep and ugly, and the hot sting on his cheek. Well deserved, too, he knew that, but it still hurt worse than anything he’d ever felt before.

 

Harry opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself away from the door. The only realistic thing to do right now was to get some sleep, and then he would make his best effort to find a way to explain everything to Eggsy in the morning.

 

Climbing into bed he thought of his options. He didn’t like the thought of lying to Eggsy, but the truth was perhaps worse. Perhaps more to himself, than anyone else.

 

_I didn’t want you to see me like this._

 

He felt weaker than he’d done in weeks. The tremor in his hand always intensified when he was tired, and when he shakily took off his eyepatch, he missed the nightstand and saw it fall to the floor. It felt like another blow. Even though he’d practised and practised, his depth vision was still off. The doctors told him that with time and practise it would get better, but he was almost starting to believe they lied just so he wouldn’t give up rehabilitation.

 

He cried that night. For the first time in years, he cried until all energy left him, and when he finally drifted off into sleep, his pyjama shirt rested against his chest wet with tears.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to pick this up again, so here's a tiiiny (!) update before I'll go into the main plot in chap 5. Don't really expect anyone to still be following this, but I've been on a Hartwin ride these last few weeks and I owe it to those of you who read the first chapters not to leave you hanging. I'm sorry for the delay, and for this drabble of a chapter, but I've got lots of new ideas, so a chap 5 update will hopefully happen during this week :)


	5. Merlin, 11:16 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later, Eggsy and Harry are not really speaking and Merlin feels guilty about it.  
> He also has a very interesting phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of mumbo-jumbo technology here, people. Just...keep an open mind.

 

 

Two weeks later, Harry was again walking the halls of the Kingsman headquarters. No field work just yet; he would sit in on briefings given by Arthur, help Merlin with handling on lighter assignments, and he was still going into rehabilitation sessions every day. Eggsy was busy with local and domestic missions; air traffic was still heavily restricted so they didn’t leave their borders if another branch could take it for them. They wouldn't want to bring too much attention to themselves, especially now when they tried to get back up and find their footing in this mess.

 

Merlin was one week into the new recruit training. He was satisfied with the candidates, and most of them performed very well so far. With Kay and Roxy by his side, assisting him occasionally, training went smoothly.

 

In between the training, Merlin still had his usual tasks, but having Harry help him with handling missions and gathering intel was a great help. They wouldn’t speak much about Harry’s near-death experience; Merlin knew his old friend would tell him about it all when he felt ready. And now, with the world turned upside down, nobody felt ready for anything more than simply getting back into what would resemble somewhat of a normal rhythm and work routine.

Before Harry had to leave for a meeting with his doctor, they had been following up on a lead from a contact in the MI6, and Merlin finally accepted that what they’d been fearing was probably true. And he'd just recently found some rather worrying news, from Eggsy.

 

Eggsy had been on a mission one week prior where he had defused a bomb and taken out the supposed leader of a London-based doomsday cult. The cult had planned a terror attack on the London tube but was unable to complete their mission as Eggsy was there to take them out first. And he had done a good job of it, or at least it had seemed that way. Merlin understood, from the intel from MI6, that the supposed leader had in fact only been a proxy, and many arrows were pointing to the London cult only being a daughter group of another, much bigger organization.

The cult’s origin was still uncertain, but Merlin had a strong feeling that it had its base in the United States, as Eggsy had relayed how the man who seemed to be the leader of the botched terrorist attack was American and had (whilst being shadowed by Eggsy during the days prior to their planned attack) constantly been on the phone.

The intel they had gotten from MI6 only read: 'Doomsday cult London; probable smaller cell of bigger organization; domestic and/or worldwide. Bases on several continents a possibility.'

Which was very bad, and very untimely. Merlin wondered if there was a connection with what he'd dug up on intellectuals and theology professors in America suddenly leaving their work, apparently to join volunteering, non-profit, and religious organizations. Steadily growing over the past few months, he'd seen an increase of high-standing and respected theologists forming new organizations in the wake of V-day. If there was a connection or not was yet to be seen, but they couldn't write it off as unimportant just yet. He would put Bedivere on the case, to do some more in-field research and maybe do some undercover work if Arthur found it necessary and worth pursuing.

 

Eggsy walked past him suddenly, a brisk pace to his step.

 

“Oh, Tristan. A moment, please,” Merlin said as he got up to make himself another cup of tea.

 

“Yeah? I’m off to see Arthur, I only have two minutes, Merl.”

 

Merlin eyed his younger colleague with evident dismay at his newfound nickname, and Eggsy just shrugged, obviously not seeing how it mattered.

 

“After lunch, I will be overseeing the recruits' parachute-test, and Arthur’s going to inform you about your mission for this afternoon.”

 

“Yeah, I know, ‘s why I’m here, innit?”

 

Merlin nodded once, then he spoke as if he was unaware what he was saying didn’t sit too well with Eggsy right now.

 

“Harry will be your handler.”

 

It was impossible to miss the look of both surprise and unease written all over Eggsy’s face.

 

“It’s the simplest of tasks, Merlin. Not much of a mission at all. I don’t even understand why I need a handler for this one.”

 

“We need extra eyes on everything now, you know that.”

 

Eggsy snorted, and Merlin decided to ignore how badly he just phrased that. Eggsy then sighed and checked his wrist-watch again.

 

“Yeah, but it’ll be boring for Harry, though. I'm sure he has more important stuff to do than watch over me," Eggsy said, then coughed, not really looking Merlin in the eye. "Also, when it comes to other handlers than you, I’m more compatible with Roxy.”

 

“That is true, but Roxy will be co-piloting the plane with Kay, so Galahad it is. I'm assuming that won't be a problem?”

 

Eggsy nodded once, jaw set, and Merlin could see the disappointment in Eggsy’s eyes.

 

“Of course not,” he muttered.

 

"Lad," Merlin started, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Talk to him. Sort this out. If not, it'll eventually damage our work," Merlin said, before adding, "And your thoughts."

 

Eggsy's eyes whipped up to meet Merlin's, a nervous glint to them.

 

"The hell you on about, Merlin? There's nothing to talk about. In fact, he's avoiding me, so it's a bit difficult to just talk to the bloke. Bloody old wanker."

 

Eggsy seemed on edge, and Merlin placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

 

"Hey now, no need for that."

 

Deflated, Eggsy nodded and forced a smile, though Merlin knew it wasn't genuine.

 

“I need to dash,” Eggsy then said, and started sprinting down towards Arthur’s office.

 

Merlin slipped two sugars into his tea and thought about Eggsy’s reaction two weeks earlier. He thought about his guilt for not preparing Eggsy, how he had failed him in that, both as a colleague and as a friend.

 

Deciding not to dwell on it longer than he had the time for, he sat down at his desk, opening his email. Wading through 30-something more or less half-important stuff, an email from Harry suddenly plopped into his inbox. The subject read: **Inquiry regarding eye surgery**

 

“Shit,” Merlin muttered under his breath, realising he had completely forgotten to contact the Japanese branch. They were in the midst of creating new technology for prosthetics, and regarding Harry's case, a prosthetic eye. While Merlin understood Harry's recovery was going well all things considered, the main thing Harry kept going on about was his 'blasted eye', or rather, the eye he was missing. Initially, Merlin had suggested a simple glass eye, and the unamused, one-eyed look of disgust made him put that idea to rest immediately.

 

' _No_ ,' Harry had told him when they discussed it. ' _As I now have had the misfortune of losing a good eye I want to replace it with something that can be useful. Make it something special, Merlin. Speak to_   _the technology specialists in Miyamoto-san's department. I'm sure they'll be able to cook up something interesting_.'

 

Merlin sure hoped he was right, as he lifted the stationary phone and dialled the number for their Japanese Kingsman headquarters. It rang three times, and then a light, energetic voice was in his ear.

 

“Merlin-san, ohisashiburi desu ne! Ogenki desu ka?”

 

It was Mitsuko, the Japanese tech department's star child. Merlin had had the occasion to meet her two times, and she never ceased to amaze him with her superior math skills and comprehension of all things technology. Not that he would ever admit to it, but he really was quite jealous. In comparison to her, he was a complete novice.

 

“Hello, Hashira-san. I'm well, thank you. And yourself?”

 

The young woman laughed, her voice a sweet cackle in his ear, and he knew what was coming.

 

“Ano ne, Merlin-san no tame ni atashi wa Mitsuko-chan da yo!” she laughed before she continued, a bit more somber “Atashi mo genki desu, arigatou.”

 

“That's good to hear, Mitsuko...chan.” he reluctantly answered, wondering why she always insisted he should address her so informally. Not that he really minded, she was strangely refreshing and direct, so unlike most of her colleagues who insisted on being more traditional in their conversations.

 

“Can we continue in English? I'm afraid my Japanese is a bit rusty these days.”

 

“Of course, Merlin. What can I do for you?”

 

“I'm calling regarding a prosthetic eye I asked Miyamoto-san to make for us. It's for one of our agents, and I just wanted to check how he was coming along with it.”

 

“Ah, that's right! I have actually done work on it, too. At the moment we are making final tests and adjustments. I believe it will be ready to ship next week.”

 

“That's what I like to hear. Can you tell me what kind of adjustments you're working on, and the functions of it?”

 

“Sure, I'll find the test file, chotto matte,” she said and Merlin could hear her fingers racing over a keyboard. “Here it is, let's see...ah, hai, it is very interesting! It is an MCOI integrated implant, with microcamera in iris. Looks really like normal eye, as we make some adjustments. Hardware also has GPS tracking system and can be activated from remote location, with five-step password security. Software, that is my work, is possible to update.”

 

“Software?”

 

“Yes, I work on a new project. Smart Android Function Equipment – SAFE. Super cool, Merlin. Eye has solar panel charging: can look at sun or bright light to charge, no problem. Bergamont watch updated with extra function; biometric security, only with thumb of the agent with SAFE-eye to activate power. It is different functions in watch if you want to record video or take pictures, emit SOS-signal, or use as flash light. Can also act as temporary WIFI router – I call it EYEfi,” Mitsuko snickered, before adding: “but only if desired.”

 

Merlin was completely speechless. He wasn’t even sure he understood half of it, Mitsuko speaking all too quickly, but all in all: he was beyond impressed.

 

“You’ve gone all out, haven’t you?” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“We are doing our best, sir.”

 

“And for that, I am very grateful, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it. I’m sure our agent will be very happy.”

 

“Yatta! I will continue to work on SAFE software and send you all information on updates. Expected delivery at your location will be Thursday, next week, Miyamoto-san just tell me.”

 

“Thank you, Mitsuko-chan. Arigatou gozaimasu.”

 

“Betsu ni,” she sing-songed before hanging up.

 

Merlin couldn’t wait to tell Harry about it, but he would simply have to: right now he had 8 Kingsman candidates to scare half to death.

 

 


	6. Harry, 2:10 pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping in as handler on Eggsy's recon mission to a university, Harry is witness to something he doesn't like one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: slightly offensive/NSFW drawing?

**Harry, 14:10 pm**

 

 

Merlin’s desk was meticulously tidy, Harry noticed as he sat down in front of the monitors. Not that his colleague was actually messy – a handler could never be messy - but Harry would usually see pieces of a broken-up phone, a screwdriver or some colourful wires sticking out of something that could possibly be a prototype for their next travel-sized explosives. Now the desk was swept clean, save for one yellow post-it note left in the middle of the keyboard.

 

 

Quickly he pocketed the note, a quick look across his shoulder to check if anybody else might have seen. Thankful that the other handlers were concentrated on their own monitors, he finally sat down. Three minutes until the communication would start. Two weeks since Eggsy had stood on his doorstep. One million things Harry needed to say, but couldn’t.

 

He sighed as he typed in his passwords, the tremble in his left hand setting back in slightly. This was work, and no matter how much he needed to speak to Eggsy about everything that had happened, he needed to be professional. Harry Hart was always professional. Still, he noticed how his heart started pounding faster as the countdown ticked closer to 14:15. Green letters appeared on the screen.

 

_Establish audio-visual communication with codename __________ ?_

 

Typing a ‘T’, Eggsy’s codename immediately appeared in the blank space, and he cursed himself as he forcefully hit enter, hating the fact that this actually made him somewhat nervous. Instantly the monitors in front of him sprung to life, and on the main screen he saw what Eggsy saw; Eggsy washing his hands in a sink before the view tilted upwards to a mirror, and Harry saw he had dressed to blend in.

 

“Tristan, this is Galahad. I will be your handler today. Are you ready to start?”

 

Harry saw the young man’s features in the mirror. Calm, collected and he seemed unsurprised to hear Harry’s voice.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” came Eggsy’s answer, spoken in a whisper. Harry gathered there were probably others in the room. He was casually clad but still looked sharp. Fitted jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the Kingsman glasses perched on his nose, and a leather shoulder bag hugged him across his chest. He would blend right in.

 

Eggsy left the men's room and went into a hall, and the sound and sight of students talking and walking around filtered through Harry’s headphones. He could see many of the students holding a blue and white flyer in their hands, and a beautiful young woman handed one to Eggsy, which he accepted with a polite ‘thank you’. Harry saw Eggsy enter a big wooden door along with many other students into a big lecture hall. Most of the seats were already taken and Eggsy scanned the room quickly to find a free seat, that was also hopefully close to the podium.

 

“Fifth from the left, third row,” Harry suggested, and Eggsy headed towards it. It seemed someone else had seen the free spot as well, and when Eggsy stood at the end of the row the man beside him spoke up.

 

“ _It would seem we’ll have to fight each other for that seat_ ,” he said, a polite laugh in his voice.

 

Harry heard Eggsy chuckle lightly, looking straight at the other man. He seemed too old to be a student, Harry noted, but he could be faculty staff.

 

“ _Then you might as well give it to me and save yourself a trip to the hospital_ ,” Eggsy said, a slight charming challenge to his voice. It earned him a face-splitting grin from the man in front of him, and to Harry’s dismay he saw the man lick his lips briefly, eyes darting between Eggsy’s eyes and lips quickly.

 

“ _Oh, that sounds positively fascinating_ ,” the man smiled, again a quick look to Eggsy’s lips, from what Harry could see. He didn’t want to admit it even to himself, but it irked him beyond belief.

 

“ _Good_ ,” he heard Eggsy reply, and the playful ring to it made it impossible to misunderstand.

 

They were flirting. Harry resisted the urge to sigh.

 

“Tristan, the lecture’s about to start,” he said instead, hoping Eggsy would focus on the mission at hand.

 

“ _But please_ ,” Eggsy then said, gesturing to the free seat, “ _I feel like a gentleman today_.”

 

Harry could see the other man still smiling, and he wished Eggsy would just get on with it so the image of the man would disappear from his monitors.

 

“ _Well, now I can’t possibly take it, it would be rude_ ,” the man said, obviously not wanting to end his conversation with Eggsy even though the speaker had entered the stage and started to set up her microphone.

 

“ _I insist_ ,” Eggsy said, a polite finality to his words.

 

The man nodded in thanks and walked past Eggsy, one final look at him before he disappeared from their view.

 

Seeing as there were no seats left, Eggsy decided to stand against the wall on the left side of the lecture hall. He brought up his notebook and pen, not that he would use it to take any notes they could use, but to blend in with the other engaged students.

 

“It’s a two-hour lecture. You should have taken the seat,” Harry said, only a second later realising how it sounded.

 

Eggsy started scribbling something in the notebook, and when he finished he looked at it for Harry to see properly.

 

 

Trying not to sound affronted, Harry simply replied with a short “Of course,” and kept quiet for the next few minutes, as the lecture started.

 

The speaker was an American professor, Karyn McCormick, from the University of Pennsylvania. She was giving a guest lecture on man’s relationship to God and religion in wake of a crisis. She had opened by asking how many of the attending students that had experienced loss nearly a year earlier, the day Harry was nearly killed and Eggsy saved the world. Everyone in the room, including Eggsy, lifted their hands.

 

“ _And how many of you have dealt with depression or anxiety or both in the aftermath of that day?”,_ Harry heard her ask, and again almost all of the students present raised their hands. Eggsy, too, and Harry wondered if he was partly at fault for that. He undoubtedly was, remembering the hot sting in his cheek from two weeks ago.

 

McCormick’s lecture went on and she spoke about how people’s perception of religion often change after a catastrophe. Many religious people feel lost in their faith, in their relationship to their God, and some leave their faith. Others, people who didn’t believe or have a faith before a crisis, might enter religion as a way to deal with and try to seek answers in the chaos. She went on to talk about a research study she was a part of which focused on how people’s relationship to God and religion in the USA had started to change after Valentine’s mass genocide, and that it was her hope to get her colleagues in the UK interested in doing a study of their own in the future.

 

She was a good speaker, engaging her audience by asking questions and then elaborating on the students’ answers in relation to the lecture’s theme. Her rhetoric was flawless, Harry had to admit even though he didn’t much care for the topic, and the audience seemed to hang onto every word. It seemed however that Eggsy found it tiresome, as he kept doodling in his notebook from time to time. When Harry saw the boy start on yet another penis-doodle, he decided to intervene.

 

“Tristan, please keep your eyes on the professor, or have a look around the room. See if you can see anything or anyone that stands out.”

 

Eggsy looked up at the professor for a few minutes, before turning his head slightly to look at the crowd gathered in the lecture hall. It seemed everyone was enthralled by the professor’s lecture, paying attention and occasionally nodding in agreement to her words. Harry scanned the crowd closely, seeing if he could catch anything Eggsy might miss, but everything seemed tediously normal. The only thing that caught his attention was the man Eggsy had spoken to earlier, who glanced back in Eggsy’s direction several times whilst Eggsy scanned the room.

 

Eggsy turned back to his notebook and started scribbling again. After a minute he looked down, showing the now penis-doodle filled page to Harry. After a few seconds, he added a sad smiley face to emphasise his words.

 

 

 

“Boring or not, you’re on the job,” Harry said, and again heard how reprimanding he sounded. Harry heard Eggsy sigh and he saw him placing his notebook back in his bag shortly after, paying attention to the professor until the lecture ended and the floor was opened for questions.

 

The first ten minutes went by with a short discussion about the research study, and their preliminary findings. Another student asked about if they had seen any increase in relation to drug use, and the professor answered she had not seen any statistics, but that history and logic would dictate that it was highly likely. Then Eggsy raised his hand, and Harry knew what he was going to ask, all keywords already jotted down in a document by Merlin beforehand.

He was given the microphone and Harry almost ripped his headphones off from the sudden blast of feedback.

 

“ _I read an article recently,_ ” Eggsy started, putting on his posher accent, “ _stating that hordes of theology professors in the United States are leaving their posts in favour for volunteering, charities and starting NGOs. Have you any familiarity with the matter, and if so, what seems to be the reason for this?”_

The audience seemed eager to hear the professor’s thoughts, and she took a long sip of water before answering him.

 

“ _Well, first and foremost I would have to stress that ‘hordes’ would be quite an exaggeration. You know how the media works, and while I would not like to insult any of you by claiming this is so-called ‘fake news’, it is close to it, I’m afraid.”_

 

“ _So no more than, say, a couple few professors have left their jobs to form new religious organizations, is what you’re saying?”_

 

“ _No, certainly not_ ,” she retorted quickly, a slight sudden stiffness in her voice. “ _That’s not what I’m saying. Of course, there have been those who have left their academic careers to pursue_ _new projects, and yes, quite a number of these new projects are indeed of a religious character. The only thing I’m refuting is the notion that it seems we are all, in hordes, leaving our jobs for personal projects. That would be total mayhem!”,_ she laughed, and the rest of the audience with her. Eggsy was quickly there to continue, and he spoke up over the noise.

 

“ _But my main question remains, why?”_

 

The laughter fizzled out, and the professor looked down for a second before she shook her head.

 

“ _Honestly, I do not know. I wish I did, as there sure have been a few issues at some universities and colleges where theology students have demanded their tuition refunded or reduced due to some of the top theology professors parting with their institutions mid-semester. And I understand their frustration and anger, and I wholeheartedly support the students on this. But the reason for it? I have no idea, and in my honest opinion, it is a mockery of the integrity of our field, our students, and our history. But it might also be a spur of the moment, ‘let’s get together to change the world for the better’ type of thing, which will hopefully blow over soon enough_.”

 

“ _But couldn’t it be possible that what we’re seeing is the beginning of a paradigm shift? According to the article, over 80 different professors and associate professors of theology resigned from their positions during the first two quarters of this year, and as we’re now in Q3 I can only assume the number has gone up further.”_

The professor eyed Eggsy for a second before she gave him a winning smile.

 

“ _You seem more updated on the matter than me, young man. While I like to think of myself as a bit of an expert, it seems I’ve got myself some competition here_.”

 

It earned her yet another few seconds of laughter from the audience.

 

“Don’t draw too much attention to yourself,” Harry said calmly, sensing how the professor seemed to be a bit irked by Eggsy’s persistent questions. "You're doing great," he allowed himself to add.

“ _But I’m afraid I do not have a good answer to your question, sir_ ,” she said and smiled again, genuinely this time, before turning her attention back to the rest of the audience. “ _Alright, I see we’re running a bit over time, but I’ll take two more questions before we conclude_.”

 

**

 

When the lecture finally came to an end, 45 minutes on overtime, Eggsy seemed desperate to get out, and Harry could see him almost running for the door. But before he was able to exit, a voice filtered through Harry’s headphones.

 

“ _Hey, excuse me, wait!_ ”

 

Harry didn’t need Eggsy to turn around to see who it was, but the boy did anyway and again the view of the 30-something, infuriatingly handsome man, came into view.

 

“ _Sorry_?” Eggsy said, then a quick look at his wristwatch.

 

The man suddenly seemed embarrassed.

 

“ _I didn’t quite catch your name earlier_ ,” he then said, and this time Harry couldn’t stop the sigh leaving his lips.

 

“ _Well, that’s because I didn’t tell you my name_ ,” Eggsy replied, put-on humour to his voice, Harry was almost certain.

 

The man licked his lips again, and now Harry actually had problems keeping his patience.

 

“ _I would really like to know, as you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen_.”

 

Harry couldn’t believe this. Not that what the man said wasn’t true, Eggsy was truly a delight for the eyes, but that he had to sit and witness this. His eyes went to monitor 3, where all Eggsy’s vitals were showing, thanks to the wristwatch. He could see Eggsy’s pulse rise slightly, and it felt like a blow to the stomach. It worsened when Eggsy started laughing, his genuine, charming laughter, that Harry had managed to rise out of him on many an occasion, though now it seemed like a very long time ago.

 

“ _I don’t know how to respond to that, actually,”_ he said after a few seconds, and Harry saw the man tilt his head slightly to the right.

 

“ _For starters, you could give me your name?”_

 

Harry could see Eggsy offer his hand to the other man, and they shook as he told him his name was Nicholas.

 

“ _Nicholas, I hope you don’t have any plans this afternoon?”_

 

“You do,” Harry immediately said. “Return to headquarters, write up the report.”

 

“ _No, nothing important_.”

 

Eggsy’s pulse was still high, Harry noticed. This was no longer a put-on, save for the fake name he’d provided the man with.

 

“Tristan,” Harry said, a warning to his voice.

 

“ _Then I simply must insist you join me for tea. There’s a very nice café right outside of campus, with the comfiest chairs imaginable. I feel terrible, you’ve been standing for almost three hours_!”

 

“ _Don’t worry about it, mate_ ,” Harry heard Eggsy say. “ _My stamina is quite excellent_.”

 

He winked. Harry couldn’t see it, but he just knew when he saw the look on the other man’s face. He wanted to shoot something.

 

“Tristan, your report-“

 

“ _So, lead the way?”_

 

Then the feed went dark. Eggsy had ended the communication, and Harry got up in an instant, logging out and turned to leave. He did have a session with the doctor at six, but he would find an excuse to postpone it. He shouldn’t, as the tremble in his hand was so strong he had trouble buttoning his jacket, but hands and jackets be damned, he needed to go home to his study.

 

 

He needed a drink.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to hear your thoughts, as always :) What d'you think, is Harry going straight home?

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I've decided to do something different with this story than originally intended. I've changed the first chapter to be the light hearted and happy prologue of what will probably become a quite darker/angstier story.


End file.
